Losing Branson, Finding Tom
by Syblime
Summary: Tom leaves after his failed proposal. Sybil realises how much she loves him and goes after him! She either travels to London or perhaps all the way to Ireland to tell him. My contribution to Secret Santa 2018 for the wonderful MollyMack
1. Chapter 1

Secret Santa 2018

For MollyMack

Prompt: Tom leaves after his failed proposal. Sybil realises how much she loves him and goes after him! She either travels to London or perhaps all the way to Ireland to tell him.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

Tom sat with his head in his hands, his jacket discarded in the car. He'd sat himself down behind a tree so any other road users couldn't see him directly, but the grass here was still damp in the shadows hidden from the weak winter sun. He didn't care. He'd been a fool. Allowed himself to dream, to believe. But that wasn't the only problem. He had obviously hoped for her to say yes, but he had considered the possibility of her saying no. He wasn't stupid. It was all tied in to why he had asked her because, beneath the cocksure exterior, Tom Branson was scared. Conscription had been brought in at the start of the year and he was a young, single man in an unnecessary position. It was only a matter of time – hell, he was surprised it hadn't happened already – and he couldn't bear the thought of being called up while she was away. He had been running that scenario through his head over the past week, trying to figure out how he could get to tell her if that happened, especially if he refused to fight. If she'd accepted he could have dealt with the consequences. He would still most likely refuse to serve, but he would stay, knowing they had a future together. If she said no, he would go back to Ireland. He could join in his own country's fight and, for the time being at least, avoid conscription. He was no coward, but to be around like-minded men and women – Irishmen and Irishwomen – who understood whole heartedly and to whom he wouldn't have to explain himself would be a blessing. As Sybil avoided his gaze in that archway, he accepted that he would go home.

"No don't do that!"

The panic in her voice still echoed round his brain. She had planted a seed of doubt. Of hope that if he waited long enough for her then maybe one day she would say yes… Or he'd be dead in France. And so the argument went round again.

Tom groaned and ran his hands through his hair, loosening some golden strands which then fell over his forehead. He couldn't stay. 'Maybe' might be worth staying at Downton for. It wasn't worth getting killed for, or sitting in a jail cell for when afterwards the answer might turn out to be no. Reluctantly he got to his feet and moved round the car to start her back up. He'd talk to Mr Carson that evening, serve out the month but then he would go home.

~X~

Sybil was surprised when Edith came to pick her up from York and she tried to hide her disappointment. She'd been looking forward to chatting with the chauffeur and finally getting to tell him about her visit to a pub! Instead she put on a smile for her sister and complimented her improved driving skills. Once they pulled up at Downton Sybil stayed put out of habit. She could easily get out of the car but she tended to wait for him anyway, just for that small moment of contact that was allowed. Her stomach still did somersaults when she thought about their hands entwined at the garden party and just how illicit that touch had been. Her heart dropped again when her mama opened the door.

"Sybil, darling. It seems an age since you were last here."

Sybil clambered out of the car and got swept up by her family – a long embrace from her mother, a genuine smile and a sassy barb about Edith's driving from Mary. Her papa touched her cheek affectionately as she was escorted upstairs to unpack. At dinner she told them as much as she knew they would want to hear. She divulged a bit more to Isobel, but where the older lady was used to the medical world she didn't share in the surprise or emotion Sybil was holding on to. As the day drew to a close and Sybil sat braiding her hair it dawned on her just how much she had missed him and how much she had bottled up to talk to him about. Tomorrow she would find a quiet few minutes to go down to the garage.

But as she lay in bed she realised Edith had been the one to take granny home, and the dowager hadn't made a fuss. A cold chill came over Sybil as the thought came into her head: what if he's not here? He was still here last month when she had come home to visit. They hadn't spoken but he had been in the background – Papa ordering the motor, granny being brought to dinner. Edith had insisted on driving her to and from York and she'd been glad to indulge her sister because she hadn't been ready to face him again after she'd turned him down. Well, not exactly turned him down, she hadn't given an answer at all. Maybe he thought she was purposefully avoiding him by travelling with Edith and took it as an indirect rejection? She would never forgive herself if that's what he thought of her! Tomorrow she would sort everything out.

~X~

At breakfast Mary was telling her about plans for Christmas since there were only a few days to go when Carson handed Sybil a missive. It was from Cousin Isobel inviting her for tea. Perfect.

"Carson, I'd like to order the motor for two…" Mary's laughter stopped her in her tracks. "What?" She would have expected another comment about Edith's driving or maybe one about her obeying the rules and not going to the garage herself for once, but she wasn't expecting her sister to laugh.

"Oh, Edith will just love that!" Mary choked out eventually.

"What has it got to do with Edith?" Sybil asked with a frown. "I thought Branson…"

"Mr Branson has left, milady." Carson explained.

"Left! When?"

"About a month ago. I forgot you weren't here at the time. Sorry darling.

Sybil felt like she had been punched in the stomach and all air knocked out of her. He can't have left. "Why?" She squeaked. Oh god, had he been called up? Papa had contacts in the war office, surely he could find out where Branson had been sent for training and she could get a note to him. If he was still there. How long did soldiers train for? What if he was in France already? What if he had already been shot? Her mind was racing and she blindly put a hand out to steady herself.

"Sybil, are you alright?" She vaguely heard her sister.

"Sorry Carson, what did you say?" Sybil tried to keep her voice as even as possible. She could feel Mary's eyes on her.

"Mr Branson left for family matters milady."

"Ah." She pretended to continue with her breakfast. Family matters. That could mean anything, but as least it didn't sound like he was in France. She would try and catch her father and see if he could provide any more details.

~X~

She found him in the library before luncheon.

"Papa."

He smiled at her. "I'm glad you're back. Your sisters get quite catty without you to play referee. I thought they might have grown out of it by this stage, but it seems just you being here has a calming effect on all of us." He chuckled.

"Papa, Carson says Branson has left?"

"Poor chap. He lost a brother, or a cousin. I can't remember but he looked terribly ill. It obviously affected him badly. Your Mama said he looked distracted when she saw you off in the car to York. I'm surprised he didn't say anything to you himself, but then he probably didn't want to trouble you when you were going away. He was very professional and gave a months' notice. Edith is driving us for now. I doubt we'll find another chauffeur while the war is on. Platt can do the shorter journeys even so the fitter horses have gone too. Sybil? Are you quite well?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Perfectly well Papa," she lied with a smile, "I think I will put something warmer on before luncheon."

* * *

TBC. Part two is still in the pipeline...


	2. Chapter 2

I shouldn't be allowed to write multi-chapter fics. This (like most of my writing) has taken on a life of its own.

Anyhoo, this is part two. There will be more...

Enjoy :)

* * *

Tom found being back in Dublin different to what he had expected. He'd been hoping for a sense of relief and home comforts, but the tension on the streets between the Irish people and the British soldiers was so thick you could almost see it, like smog filled with ill intent. No, it had not been the homecoming he had expected at all. An Irish soldier journeying home on leave from France had disembarked a few minutes before Tom and was beaten up by, one assumed, Sinn Fein men the moment he had stepped off the ferry. Tom winced as he witnessed the scene and hurried through the busy docks and to his Mam's house.

She was cautious in her greeting. Happy to see him of course, but also concerned as to why he had suddenly decided to come home. She knew her son and could read through his words about the war and wanting to be with his family. She would have expected hints of displeasure for a month or so before an announcement that he was leaving a place where he seemed to be happy. She relaxed somewhat when Tom showed her his reference form Mr Carson, full of praise.

"The hotel might have something for you, but what they are looking for most at the moment is dock labour." She didn't want Tommy working on the docks, but jobs were scarce.

So that's what he did. He loaded ships with supplies during the week and Saturdays and Sundays he worked at the Shelbourne, driving patrons to and from their dinner dates, and all the while he watched. The other labourers grumbling, moaning, drinking too much and getting into trouble. Meanwhile the wealthy went about their lives pretending nothing was wrong. The newspapers were full of propaganda and lies, but many couldn't see through them. Tom read everything intently and made copious notes, straining his aching muscles and tired eyes to work late into the nights. There was trouble and violence whenever soldiers appeared at the docks. English, Irish, hell they could have been Germans, the workers took objection to them. Tom tried to avoid all these displays as much as possible, and writing about them never seemed to comfort him in the way it would for everything else. Writing normally stopped his mind from racing, but these incidents just brought unbidden thoughts of William. The lad was so keen to fight. To do his bit. It scared Tom. What if he did sign up to Ireland's fight as he had intended and William was drafted over here? What if they ended up confronted with each other? What if? What if? What if?

Darrell found her brother sitting in the back yard one night. Mam was already worried about him, but Darrell had never seen him this distant.

"Tommy?" He didn't respond. She sat next to him. "What is it?"

He eventually turned to her. "I came back to do my bit. Fight for MY country because I couldn't stand it over there. The bloody patriotism. I couldn't fight for them, so I left, but I can't do it Dee. I can't consciously make that decision to hold a weapon, to kill, even if I do believe the world will be a better place for it." He looked at his sister, leaving out his insecurities over Sybil, her family and their position in his quest for a 'better world'. "How can I pick a side when I live in and have friends in both?"

"Tom, you don't have to fight. You're clever. Use your writing, your brains, anything to stay true to your cause, but you have to be true to yourself first."

As she finished her speech, Tom pulled his sister into a fierce hug. "Thank you."

~X~

Sybil went to Isobel's for tea as had been arranged and, after a few pleasantries, asked her cousin most directly when she could start at the hospital. Isobel smiled at her and promised she would speak to Dr Clarkson at the first opportunity. Sybil started the following week and threw herself into her work. She refused to attend dinner with her family as often as her mama would let her. Isobel and Dr Clarkson regularly found her doing laundry or cleaning long after her shift was over. Mostly that resulted in polite, calm words that were usually reserved for patients and children, and only a couple of times did they physically remove her from the building. It made Sybil bristle with anger.

Then a young lieutenant committed suicide on her watch.

She kept washing her hands to forget the sight of his blood. Again she stayed long after her shift to try and get rid of the images, the feelings of guilt and uselessness that plagued her. She needed something. She needed _him_ , but he'd gone. That was when she found Thomas sobbing in one of the store rooms. Hoping to maybe share their grief she approached him, but he clammed up.

"What can I do for you, milady?" All formality retained.

She wanted to scream. She didn't need servants, she needed a friend. She fled the hospital, leaving Thomas to his own devices and ended up back in the Abbey garage. Every emotion so far, she'd bottled up and written in a journal - each entry addressed to _him_. Sometimes blaming him. Sometimes asking for his forgiveness. She liked to think of his responses to her nursing dilemmas. His cheeky grin from the front of the car, telling her that he had faith in her. But that was a double-edged sword. His memory brought comfort, but it also brought pain. This time the journal wasn't enough. She took the gloves he'd left out of their drawer and held on to them as if her own life depended on it. Sitting in the space they so often shared she finally let her tears flow.

It wasn't much of a surprise to anyone after this when Sybil announced she would be continuing her training in London.

~X~

Endell Street Hospital was a suffragette run hospital for wounded men straight off the ambulance trains. With nearly six hundred beds and up to twenty operations a day it was far more demanding than the auxiliary hospital at Downton. Sybil found herself often collapsing into bed with her limbs aching from carrying the heavy stretchers, but it was what she wanted. She was so busy she didn't have time to think.

It was only when she overheard a conversation in the canteen one day that everything came flooding back.

"You're so lucky. I learnt with some old codger who'd worked for some posh family and had been dragged out of retirement to teach us women. Guess most young men have ended up at the front."

"It's working at Vickers I reckon has kept him here. But bein' a mechanic he's also helping at the hospital with the ambulances. He thinks women should have the vote, so he's helping us build skills that might be useful. Maintenance an' everything."

"Pfft. Mr Richards version of maintenance was to hit the engine with a hammer. I saw him do it. The machine had to be taken to a shop in the end."

"Mr Branson knows what he's doin'!"

Sybil's breath caught. Branson, a mechanic who supported women's rights. It had to be him. She picked up her tray and moved over to where the two ambulance drivers were sitting.

"Excuse me?" They both looked at her sceptically. "It sounds like you know an old friend of mine; Tom Branson?"

The woman who had seemingly trained with him suddenly looked surprised. "Might've been Tom. He never gave his given name. Didn't seem to want to socialise much. We all figured he had left a girl back in Ireland or something. How do you know him?"

"We attended rallies together in Yorkshire." Sybil protected both their backgrounds. "I just wanted to ask, where is he now?"

"Brooklands."


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, here we are. Third and final chapter. I hope you like it. :)_

* * *

Tom had been lucky to get the Vickers job. His brother Kieran had worked with someone who joined the aircraft production team and had been interested to hear that there was a Branson brother looking for work. Tom quickly adapted to the mechanics of aircraft and his understanding of the technology and impressive driving repertoire meant he was entrusted with trips and consultations at Barrow-on-Furness. And that was where he met her.

Dorothée Pullinger had worked at a Scottish automobile firm before the war and was a keen advocate of women's rights. They got talking and she quickly took to the young, handsome mechanic who showed up. She offered to drive him around the site and he accepted willingly. She didn't hide her surprise that a man would be supportive. He told her about his socialist beliefs and about teaching Lady Edith. It was then she imparted her secret plan to him, that one day she would design and build a car specifically for women.

"It will have a mirror about here", she gestured to her left at the top of the windscreen, "the seat will be higher to give better sight, it will have more storage space and it should be lighter and easier to drive."

"It's a good idea, although there might be a limited market of women who can drive."

"I'll teach them. I'll set up a driving school for women. Besides, more and more girls are learning for the war effort and those working in the factories are earning more than they ever have before. After a taste of freedom they're not going to give that up easily."

"Well, that's certainly true. I can see you're determined!" He told her with a smile. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Thank you Mr Branson. I appreciate that."

He'd gathered the components and plans he was meant to collect and drove back down south. It wasn't long after that he got involved in a commotion at the Brooklands hospital. He drove past one day and saw a doctor standing outside yelling at a group of nurses. Curiosity got the better of him and he drove up to see what the problem was.

It transpired that the doctor had been expecting a group of ambulance drivers and had ended up with a group of nurses. Dorothée's words came back to him and Tom offered to drive the ambulance while he taught the nurses who were willing to learn. The assembled party were both baffled by his presence and astounded by his kindness. Tom sheepishly explained that he worked at Vickers and had stopped out of curiosity.

The workload after that was heavy but Tom enjoyed being busy. He remained rather an oddity, coming in for work only and not staying for social events. For one he was exhausted and second he didn't really feel like it. His Mam would have scolded him for not giving them a chance, but deep down he was still hurting over Sybil and seeing the nurses all bustling around was almost too much to bear. He enjoyed helping though. Some of his pupils had even progressed onto top London hospitals. They came to thank him personally, but he didn't give them the time of day.

One day Tom was hauled up under one of the ambulances. During one of his lessons the nurse had hit the underside of the machine and Tom didn't like to take chances. He groaned to himself when he heard a woman's heeled shoes on the garage floor.

"I wish I knew how an engine worked."

"I could teach you if you like." He didn't mean to snap, but sometimes he wished they wouldn't play with him so much. Why not just ask him directly when he was here for lessons.

"That's Edith's territory." She said after a pause.

This time her voice registered in Tom's mind. He carefully manoeuvred himself out from under the vehicle. It would just be his luck to hit his head and wake from this dream before seeing her. There she was, standing there looking for all the world like any of the other nurses.

"Sybil?" He scolded himself for not using her title, but she smiled at him.

"It's so good to see you." She said, stepping forward.

"Is it?" Her refusal felt pretty fresh to him. She looked down at the ground. "How long have you been here?" He asked her.

"About a week. I've seen you driving out with other nurses, but never found a moment to talk to you alone." She laughed then. "I even tried writing you a letter but it sounded so awful! Tom," her voice grew softer, "I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry for that, but I didn't know what to say. It was my first time away from home and I was terrified. My life was changing in that instant and I wasn't brave enough to say yes." Tom just stared at her. "I was heartbroken when I came back and you weren't there. I was so lonely. I hadn't realised how much I rely on you for decent conversation! You're my best friend and I love you, Tom Branson, with every fibre of my being. So, will you marry me?" She asked with a cheeky smile.

"NURSE CRAWLEY!"

Sybil looked from the woman in the doorway of the hospital back to Tom. "That's Mrs Locke King. I have to go." She turned to leave.

"Sybil?" She whipped back round. "Yes." Her face broke into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

"Oh!" She ran up to him, pecked him on the cheek and ran back to the hospital. She bowed her head at the older lady's disapproving look and returned to her duties.

She spent the rest of the afternoon smiling and was pleasantly surprise when she found Tom waiting for her outside after her shift.

For his part Tom had been daydreaming since she left. He had so many questions for her and still couldn't believe this was actually happening. He stayed working on the ambulances longer than normal and then lingered around the door until she stepped out of the building.

"Hello."

A deep blush covered her cheeks at his simple greeting. "Hello."

Shyness washed over the pair of them. "I still can't believe you're here." Tom began after a minute.

Sybil shrugged. "I finished my training, worked at Downton for a bit then worked in London, which was wonderful, and then I heard you were here, so I put in for a transfer. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? I would never mind you being near me." Sybil blushed again. "Where are you staying? Can I walk you home?" She nodded and began down the path into the village. Even though it was a short walk she told him all about Endell Street and the Suffragette lectures she had been to there. He told her about his experience back in Ireland and what had brought him back.

"I'm glad you did come back, I'm not sure I'd have found you in Ireland." They stopped outside the house she was staying at. He was looking at her so intently that Sybil couldn't help but blush again, but that wasn't all. There was a question in his eyes. "Yes, you can kiss me," she answered him breathily, "but that is all until everything is settled." The words caught in her throat as his hand came up to caress her face.

"For now God knows it's enough that I can kiss you."


End file.
